C i N d E r
by Hunter of Artemis101
Summary: Just another Cinderella story...only with a dark twist. Where does a cutter find her Prince Charming? And where does a drug addict find his Princess? The answer is not a castle, but a mental hospital. Annabeth doesn't beileve in a fairy tale ending, especially with arms like hers. Can a green eyed drug addict prove to her that there's more to life than just pain? Percabeth. T/M.
1. Prologue

**Warning: If you are not okay with blood, cutting, mental disorders, drug abuse, suicidal characters, character deaths then I would not advise reading this. Even if it is just lightly initiated. Please be aware that this is rated T/M, not just T.**

**CiNdEr: (inspired by **horse-crazy girl13's **Cinderella)**

**Summary: Just another Cinderella story...only with a dark twist. Where does a cutter find her Prince Charming? And where does a drug addict find his Princess? The answer is not a castle, but a mental hospital. "I want to be Cinderella, but how am I supposed to find my Prince Charming in a mental hospital? And what if he's insane?" Annabeth Chase's father remarried after her mother died from Cancer, adding a wicked Stepmother, and two cruel twins. Annabeth doesn't beileve in a fairy tale ending, especially with arms like hers. Can a green eyed drug addict prove to her that there's more to life than just pain? Or will Annabeth never become the Cinderella she wants to be since she was little? Rated T/M. **

_"A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."- Cinderella._

* * *

**Annabeth's P.O.V:  
Prologue:**

Tears were shimmering in my eyes. A few over passing my restraint to keep them in, and cascading slowly down my pale cheeks.

He stared at me, his green eyes that I had became so acquainted to emotionless and steely. I know he doesn't want to see me, but I can't bring myself to leave.

"For once in my life," I began slowly, making sure I thought my words over before I spoke them. "I feel okay to be broken. Ever since I was little I never fit in anywhere. I was alone. I was broken. Then you had to come along. You. I could never ask you to fix me and I don't want to be fixed if it means losing you. I can't lose you, Percy. I don't care if this isn't real. I'd rather be with you than anyone else that is real. Percy- you- make me feel like it's okay to be broken."

For once a look of hope broke out across his expression, his green eyes lighting up from that dead color to an alive one. He approached me slowly and I smiled tentatively, wiping a few spare tears away. I could cry later.

"You make me feel okay to be broken," I repeated. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, his eyes studying mine carefully, his gaze lingering.

His eyes darkened. "Are you sure this is what you want? You want to be with me even after you discovered what I really am?"

I nodded, gripping his arms tightly. "I don't care about the rest of the world. I never cared about anyone-not really- since my mother died. But I care about you, Seaweed Brain. I love you." I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pressing my lips tightly against his.

He barely participated- completely shocked at my confession. It was a short, soft kiss, so unlike him. When he broke, his expression was of complete awe.

"You make me feel like it's okay to be broken."

Then, a smile etched across his face, although it was a sad one. "We can be broken together."

Of course, I didn't hear Percy Jackson's lifelong lesson yet. Because right now, I was in the car riding to the mental hospital, long before the thought of Percy even resurfaced in my mind once again.

"Take one down, pass it around, twenty bottles of milk on the wall."

It's...spinning. The world.

Going around and around, identical to clockwork, except the world doesn't make repeated ticking noises. Instead, the world makes different sounds. Different than the irritating sound of _tick-tock, tick-tock_.

It makes the sound of laughter. Parents chuckling, the high peals of children giggling and babies squealing with delight.

It makes the sound of freedom; trees rustling in the light breeze. Padding footsteps of children running throughout the world. Birds singing, their wings spreading apart and looking as free as the sun.

It makes the sound of pain, too.

The world makes the sound of my blood rolling off my once tan arms and dripping to the bathroom floor. It makes the sound of me seething with pain, clenching my teeth, digging my sharp fingernails into my palm so hard that it draws more of the scarlet liquid.

It makes the sound of various scars slashed around my arms, some long, some thin. Long, jagged lines, the handiwork of a razor blade.

Pain.

It's all I'll ever hear, all I'll ever be.

Living, breathing, pain, with the clock ticking in the background reminding me of how much time I have left.

The world may make many positive noises...

but all I hear is the blood and the pain.

My stepsisters continue to sing, "take one down, pass it around, nineteen bottles of milk on the wall."

"I'm truly sorry, Annabeth. But you've given me no other choice." I avert my gaze from my father, my grey eyes staring out the car window attentively. "Annabeth?" His voice cracks at the end, as I pointedly ignore him. My father. But, I guess he was never really my father was he? He was the male from which I was reproduced- but not a father. Not a dad. When I had I ever called him 'dad?' When had I ever called him 'pops' or 'daddy' or even 'father'? The answer is never. He will always just be Fredrick to me.

"Take one down, pass it around, eighteen bottles of milk on the wall." They were singing out of tune, but I was still too shell-shocked to correct them.

To tell the truth, I don't know why I'm being sent _there_.

It was just a recent phase, nothing more nothing less. There was nothing somewhat peculiar for Fredrick to find out. Perhaps it wasn't just a phase, but there was nothing more I could do about the matter.

"Take one down, pass it around, seventeen bottles of milk on the wall."

I'm almost positively sure that the she devil and Fredrick overreacted. O-V-E-R-R-E-A-C-T-E-D. Ha. I doubt they could even spell the world without having a hernia or their lack of knowledge cutting in and getting in the way. Call me disrespectful, but I really don't give a damn anymore. If I'm going here, I might as well write my will while I can, right?

I made a mental will in my mind, chuckling darkly underneath my breath as I finished ;absolutely nothing will be given to my father, Fredrick, nor to his wife Helen, except my insurance. Mattie and Barbara (my stepsisters) will under no circumstances be given anything that has ever belonged to me or ever will. All my belongings will go to Thalia Marie Grace, the only person who has been decent to me, in my entire shitty life.

I sighed, but the thought of Thalia brought a smile to my pale lips.

Thalia Grace, my spunky, punk, best friend. However, her permanent record is sure to say some worse things about her.

"Take one down, pass it around, sixteen bottles of milk on the wall."

My smile faded, my chapped lips pulling into a permanent straight line. What if I never got to see her again? She would visit me, right? Or would she think I was off my rocker and amongst those things and never want to socialize with me again?

I hadn't even got the chance to tell my best friend where I was going, let alone why.

_A person like you doesn't deserve any friends._

My teeth grit together as Mattie's words came rushing back to my head. The twins may be arrogant and illogical, but they know how to make a person hurt. Mattie and Barbara were the ones who had gotten me sent to this nut house, along with their fiendish mother for backup. They're all witches. Evil, manipulative, witches who haven't got a shred of common decency in their entire polished, makeup covered bodies.

Mattie was becoming okay, though. If they hadn't discovered what I did, perhaps we would become friends. She had kept the secret for me, and even began to feel concern for me, an emotion that she surely never felt in her life.

"Take one down, pass it around, fifteen bottles of milk on the wall." I knew that Mattie and Barbara were only singing this to remind me that once all the bottles were passed around- we would arrive, and my life as _sane _Annabeth Chase, would be over.

If only they knew that my life was far from over.

They each sang in unison, their voices crackly and high pitched. Forget water torture, just have Mattie and Barbara sing for you. I wanted to clasp my hands over my ears, but that would only give them satisfaction, and disapproval from my parents.

Mattie sent me a side glance, and I nodded curtly; encouragingly.

We would never be friends. But we were allies. And I guess for right now that was enough.

"Take one down, pass it around, fourteen bottles of milk on the wall."

I stare out at the sun, which was slowly peaking itself over, surpassing the clouds that were trying to pin it down.

I suppose in this scenario I was the sun. And the rest of my family was the storm clouds that were slowly covering me, holding me back from shining upon the rest of the world.

"Take one down, pass it around, thirteen bottles of milk on the wall."

"Fredrick," Helen placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and I resisted the urge to snort. How sweet this scene was, if they didn't have a mental patient in the back seat. "This is for the best."

"You're right, dear," he said softly, but I could still see the pain behind his blue eyes. "How do you always know the right words to say to me?"

I heard Mattie and Barbara cooing and gushing from the row of seats in front of me, and this time I couldn't hold back my snort. I released it, only earning a cold look from Helen, whose wicked brown eyes highly resembled those of a snake.

Through they're gushing, they still managed to sing. "Take one down, pass it around, twelve bottles of milk on the wall."

"Now, Annabeth, dear-" ah, here comes her faux 'I'm the best stepmother in the world' facade. "It's only for the summer. I'm sure you'll miss all of us, but we'll visit as often as we can. Okay, sweetie?"

That was complete and utter bullshit. The smug looks from the terror twins said it all. Firstly, maybe Fredrick only thought I would be there for the summer, but I knew Helen had other plans. Excuses made up to keep me there longer- maybe for the rest of my days. I shuddered at the thought. And secondly, there would be no visitors. Maybe for the first week, Fredrick would visit- alone, of course. Then, he has fulfilled his duties as a father who has a nut job daughter, and wouldn't visit again.

I read on line that neglection was against the law, but what _isn't _ against the law? Those were Thalia's words when I told her that drinking alcohol was a national offense when you're under age. She had waved it off, claiming the facts that 'what isn't against the law?'

"Take one down, pass it around, eleven bottles of milk on the wall."

I reached down in my jean pockets, pulling out my iPod, wondering whether or not if this classified as a 'sharp object.' It held all my favorite songs, one of my favorite things in the world. It was inanimate, but the songs and voices gave the vibe that it was humane.

Placing the owl designed buds in my ear, I leaned back against the car seat, feeling it vibrate from the heavy bumps on the road.

_-and I'm not scared of your stolen power.  
I see you right through you any hour.  
I won't soothe your pain.  
I won't ease your strength.  
You'll be waiting in vain.  
I got nothing for you to gain-_

I shut my eyes tightly, finally feeling tears. The betrayal was too much to bear. How could my own flesh and blood do something like this to me?

How could they be so cold hearted? I never underestimated Helen's power, but I guess I underestimated the lengths that she would go to keep me under lock and key.

So I wonder how my family could send me here...

To an insane Asylum.

Even through the blaring sound of the music, I somehow hear there singing.

For the last time.

"Take one down, pass it around, one bottle of milk on the wall."


	2. Chapter One: Once Upon A Time

**Warning: If you are not okay with blood, cutting, mental disorders, drug abuse, suicidal characters, character deaths then I would not advise reading this. Even if it is just lightly initiated. Please be aware that this is rated T/M, not just T.**

**CiNdEr: (inspired by **horse-crazy girl13's **Cinderella)**

**Summary: Just another Cinderella story...only with a dark twist. Where does a cutter find her Prince Charming? And where does a drug addict find his Princess? The answer is not a castle, but a mental hospital. "I want to be Cinderella, but how am I supposed to find my Prince Charming in a mental hospital? And what if he's insane?" Annabeth Chase's father remarried after her mother died from Cancer, adding a wicked Stepmother, and two cruel twins. Annabeth doesn't beileve in a fairy tale ending, especially with arms like hers. Can a green eyed drug addict prove to her that there's more to life than just pain? Or will Annabeth never become the Cinderella she wants to be since she was little? Rated T/M. **

_"A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."- Cinderella._

* * *

**Chapter One: Once Upon A Time  
Annabeth's P.O.V:**

_"So you're going to leave me," I speak the words blandly. Like I'm reading out of a chapter book, stating the facts. "You promised me you never would." Her pale, thin hand reaches over and grasps mine tightly. I rip my hand away, knowing that she's too frail to attempt closure again. Tears are glistening in her eyes, that used to be a bright, lively grey. Now, they're as dark as death. _

_"Some things are out of my control," she exclaims slowly, and I can see the longing for my prescience in her expression. "I don't want to die, Annabeth. I want to stay here with you and your father, and live to see your grandchildren-"_

_"-but you gave up." _

_She coughs, choking on the words that she had began to speak. Her eyes are watery, and her pale face is turning the grimy color of yellow. I see my father through the shades of my mother, Athena's room, pacing back and forth. His hands keep flying to his hair, like he's trying to rip out pieces. Like he's trying to rip out the fact that my mother won't be here in the years to come. _

_"Mommy didn't give up." She tries to compose herself, as she's thrown into another hysterical coughing fit. "Annabeth. Please listen. You're old enough to be strong for your dad and for me, right?"_

_"I'm only twelve," I say flatly, leaning against her bed post. "I think that hardly qualifies me." She lets out a sigh, like she had been expecting this to be my reaction. _

_"Anna-banana, I love you so much, do you know that?" I freeze, at the mention of the nickname she used to say to me when I was little. Hesitantly, my ice barrier begins to melt. Mom's going to die. I finally realize this. Tomorrow, she won't be breathing. The air will be stolen from her lungs. Her body will be cast away to the stars- taken from me. Snatched away, to an unfair fate that she never deserved. "To the moon and back."_

_I nod curtly, trying to blink back the tears that keep swelling in the corners of my eyes. "To the moon and back."_

_I grab her hand and place it in mine. I want to squeeze it tightly, but I know it will only make matters worse. "I love you, mommy." My voice catches at the end of the word mommy, what I used to call her when I was young. When I was still thriving in the innocence of childhood. When I still believed that nothing bad could ever happen to those I love. "I'm sorry I was being so difficult." _

_My tears eventually overwhelm my fight, and I allow them to spill over. She captures my head in between her hands, pulling my thin body against her own. Despite everything, my mother still looks beautiful. Her eyes are dark, but that determination is still there. She had lost all her hair, but the wig replaced her baldness. Her face was tear streaked, but that thoughtful look was always there. I lean into her nightgown, soaking the shoulder to it. _

_"Don't leave me! Please, mommy. No!" _

_"Sh, baby girl. Calm down. Everything's going to be okay- even without me."_

_"I'll always be with you," she continues, trying to calm me down. "In your heart." _

_I scowl into her dress, leaning up ever so slightly. "I don't want you in my heart! I want you here."_

_"I'm going to miss you. But, always know that we'll see each other one day."_

_"How long?" I question, longing for the security of a mathematical number. "How long until I see you again?"_

_Her face is dead serious, as she runs her hand along my face. It's cold now, like it's not even alive. "Hopefully not for a long, long time. I want you to live your life, Annabeth. Don't waste any moment, because a second just as precious as a lifetime. I don't want you to die, now, or soon. I want you to die as an old lady-wrinkles and all."_

_"I want you to fall in love, have kids. Become the famous architect I know you'll become. I want you to _LIVE_ Annabeth. And always know, that no matter what, I'll be there for you. In heaven or God knows where else, I'll be there. You have to promise me something, Annabeth."_

_I nodded, more tears cascading down my cheeks, the sound of my sobs quieting until they ceased altogether. "Anything."_

_"Promise me that you'll live your life to the fullest. That you won't let others push you around, like you're a puppet on strings. That you'll have hope for yourself and the world. Promise me."_

_I swallow down the lump beginning to form in my throat. "I promise."_

_We hugged then, are arms wrapped around one another tightly, like we were afraid to let go. Like she would drift into the stars if I didn't hold her down, like I was afraid she was going to slip through my fingers, like sand._

_She died the next day. _

"What is _this_?" The feminine voice shrieked in disgust. "Ugh, it's disgusting."

"Absolutely revolting," the other girl sneered.

My eyes peeled open, shutting at the bright sunlight that was pouring through the bedroom window, in long streaks of yellow. The last remains of my dream were beginning to disappear with my awakening. It was a horrible, sorrow filled nightmare, but I couldn't remember the contents of it. It was fading quicker as I slowly drifted back into consciousness.

I gasped, sitting abruptly up when I realized that the two voices were not just in my subconscious mind. Fighting back the urge to curl up into a ball and fall asleep, I glowered at the two teenage girls rummaging through my closet.

Throwing myself up I snarled, " and what do you think you're doing?" I fought the urge to flop back down on my bed as blue spots danced across my eyes from standing up to soon.

My eyes flickered to the clock. Seven a.m.

They both exchanged an amused look, throwing down my plain Jane grey sweater to the floor. Mattie stared at it, like it was a bug just daring to be squashed by her designer boots. Meanwhile Barbara was having fun reading through my diary-

"I'll never forget that dream. I have it almost every night. It's a man, with bright emerald eyes, like little tiny pieces of seaweed-"

I chucked a pillow at her, fumbling with my blankets. She evaded my plush pillow easily, though, sidestepping. "That's private!"

"Not anymore," Mattie chimes in, her brown straightened to perfection. Her malicious lip gloss smile is enough to make me want to cut again. Speaking of cutting, I better pull down my sleeves. The last thing I want was for those two wicked step sisters to know about my, uh, little problem.

Barbara continues, "and he stares at the stars on some random shitty building- really Annabeth? You shouldn't swear. What would mother think?- and wishes for something. Not just something, me. He wishes for me."

Mattie snickers so loudly, she has to lean up against my dresser to keep her balance. Meanwhile, my face felt like it was igniting on fire. I blushed harder, jumping out of bed.

"Give me that- _now_." I glare at her, making my expression as intimidating as I could humanely make it. Was that my imagination, or did fear just flash through Barbara's eyes? She stumbled backward, waving it above her head, Barbara's look of fear replaced by smugness.

And I'll have you know, that didn't do wonders for my pride.

"Aw, come on bitch. If you want it, you're going to have to come and get it."

Making my voice high pitched and screechy at an attempt to mimic Barbara's words (I have to say, I did pretty well) I retorted, "Really, Mattie, you shouldn't swear. What would mother think?" She sent her sister a stern look, and Barbie shrugged in response. All everyone and anyone called her Barbie, transforming her name into something more catchy. I would have preferred Barbie Bitch, but we all don't get what we want do we?

Anyways, when I said 'anyone' I really meant anyone except for me.

I was a loner, the girl who sat alone at lunch. The girl who was picked on by everyone. The girl who chose books rather than looks. The girl that everyone despises, including myself.

I hate myself. I'm not proud to say it, or even think it, or carve it into my skin, but I know it's the deadpanned truth. I'd be dishonest if I stated that I loved myself.

My hair was curly and honey suckle colored, but I kept it hidden under my Yankees Cap...the last thing my mother ever gave me to me. My skin was naturally tan, the only good thing about me. I normally wore blue jeans, with a random t-shirt, and a thick hoodie/jacket. No one could know about my secret. And no one was going to. I suppose I'd have more friends if Barbie/Barbara hadn't labeled me as the school's loser when I transferred over to their private school. Yancy Academy. Though, it should really be called Mattie and Barbara Academy- the school where everyone worships the ground that they walk upon.

My hand twitched, and I snapped back to my thoughts. I already wanted to escape to the haven of my bathroom, and cut again. These urges mostly happened when I was anxious or stressed...so yeah, every second of every day.

She chucked the book at me, rolling her brunette eyes. "Whatever, Annie. I have better things to do than socialize with...miscreants."

"Right," I said sarcastically, brushing my bangs to the side. "Because the term miscreants is totally edgibale in the twenty first century."

Barbie stepped in, hooking her arms through Mattie's. Needless to say, they were best friends and worst enemies. They were ambivalent with one another, making dinner conversations very interesting. Not that anyone talked to me anymore.

Fredrick (as I called him now) stopped speaking to me as soon as mom passed away. At first, everyone had claimed it to be his grieving time and that was his way with dealing with it. I had accepted it, and had waited and longed for the day when he would give me an Eskimo kiss and scoop me up in his arms.

That day never came. And a year later, he met Helen and was...happy.

His grieving time was over and I realized that I had mistaken grief for hate.

He couldn't even look at me without cringing in disgust and hatred.

That was okay. I was used to it.

"Oh. My. God! Annabeth, I have no idea what you just said. Try taking a charismatic class or something. You're like, totally socially retarded."

I sent her an icy glare as they sashayed from the room, their hips swaying in perfect alignment.

"Oh, and Annabeth? Happy birthday."

As soon as there skimpy asses were out of my room, I slammed the door, locking it tightly. I exhaled deeply, sliding down the door like they did in those cliché movies.

I rested my head in my hands, my forehead already beaded with sweat.

"Mom..." I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut. "I miss you."

There was no response, other than the cackles from downstairs.

. . .

_I was thirteen years old. I shouldn't be doing this. No, I couldn't be. This had to be a dream, as I held the razor with trembling hands. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Pale as a ghost, hollow grey eyes, with no emotion cast in them. Frizzy hair, the curls messed together in tangles. _

_I turned away from the lifeless girl in the mirror and back to my arm, which was fully exposed. _

_The physical pain distracted me from the emotional pain._

_I bit my lip, my teeth sinking into it as I pressed the coolness up to my flesh. _

_Then, I sliced. _

_The blood appeared quickly, and I winced in pain, but felt a rush of endorphins take the pain away. I felt relieved, better. Without my razor, I don't know what I'd do. It felt like I was floating on a cloud, adrenaline pumping through my veins. And for a moment, I forgot._

_I forgot that my own father hated me. I forgot that my mother was dead. I forgot everything...except for the blood. _

_It was exhilarating, the rush. And the five second amnesia, too. _

_Even if my memory loss was only momentarily, it was completely and utterly worth it. It was worth the battle scar that I'd have forever, because for once in my life I felt completely. Whole. I was living. Wasn't that what my mother wanted me to do? Live? Well, I was living now. This was the definition of liveliness. _

_But, as the blood continued to cascade down my arm in a bloody river, my memory was back. My mother was dead. My own father hated me. My father was marrying a women he had only known for three months. _

_I sighed, leaning my head up against the glass, letting the blood drip to the floor like teardrops. In a way, they were like tears. Tears of blood that wanted to be released. And so I freed them. _

_The schedule was the same every day. _

_Deep breaths. Slice. Flesh connecting with a blade. Blood. The rush. The endorphins passing. The pain taking its place. _

_Then, the dark line taking the bloods place. _

_And finally, there's the remorse. _

_And depending if I'm feeling up to it, I do more than one slash. _

_But it was always the same. Exactly the same procedure, over and over._

_And out of all the steps, the regret was the worst._

. . .

I swallow down the lump that was growing painful in the back of my throat. But, I would not cry. Not in Helen's house. I was too prideful for that. I brushed myself off, fixing my baggy, grey pants and my long sleeved blue t-shirt.

Another year.

Another day.

And another meaningless birthday.

I grab a beanie, tying my frizzy hair up, before stumbling out of my room and down the stairs. Of course, they're waiting for me, with their perfect little dresses that the girls at Yancy Academy only dream of ever getting.

"Hello, Annabeth."

"Um...hi?"

At first, I thought maybe just maybe, Fredrick and Helen hadn't forgotten my sixteenth birthday.

And of course, I was proven wrong when a long list was practically shoved in my face. The list.

The_ dreaded_ list. I practically cringed whenever I saw the paper, Helen's sloppy cursive all over it. I mentally counted the list of chores on the paper _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, etc, etc. _

"There's twenty chores to do?"

"Yes, sister. In fact," she pointed at an invisible watch. "You better get started right now. They might take you a while."

"But-but it's my... birthday." Mattie and Barbie glanced at each other, before erupting in a fit of giggles.

"Like mother cares. Honestly, Annabeth. I thought you were smarter than that to have actual hope." I sighed, slowly sinking down to the last step of the stairs. I groaned quietly, pressing my back against the wooden step. Even though it was covered by a rug, it was still uncomfortable.

"Oh," Barbie said, clicking her tongue in a petty fashion. "I think Annie thinks that because it's her sixteenth birthday mother will cut her some slack."

My mouth fell open, half ajar, as my cheeks heated up with anger. Slowly it clamped up when I recognized the truth behind they're words. They were right. I was expecting something different. Maybe just one birthday wish; "happy birthday, Annabeth. Even though I hate you, you are sixteen." Or maybe, "because it's you're sixteenth, you don't have to do any chores." I had hope.

And hope was the enemy.

Mattie giggled, swinging herself around on the staircase ledge. We were all in the same grade at Yancy, and I sometimes found myself thinking that if the twins were younger, my life would be bearable to say the least. "Silly, Annie."

"It's a school day, too!"I protested, pulling my knees up to my chin. "How does Helen expect me to finish all these chores before school starts?"

"Helen expects you to do it after school," a cruel familiar voice sneered from the kitchen. I really wished that it wasn't familiar...

Helen strut into the room, her brown eyes glazing over my appearance. She had a fiery red dress on, that hung in frills at the ends. She had on a black work jacket, with red heels strapped to her faux tan legs. Her brown hair was in a bun, that stylists would call perfection. Helen Troy was the perfect image of step mother, and I could see why Fredrick had fallen in love with her so quickly. She was beautiful, but not as beautiful as my biological mother. While Helen looked like something that came from a bottle, Athena didn't need to try. I cringed as I noticed that Helen had on her signature scarlet red lipstick, making her resemble the queen of hearts.

Once I composed myself, I managed, "It's the last week, Stepmother! We have a lot of homework, and we're reviewing study guides for the exams. There's no possible way that I could finish my homework and clean the house!" She eyed the girls meaningfully, and they gave me a knowing smile, before exiting the room stifling there laughter.

Helen approached me, pursing her blood red lips. "Look at me, Annabeth Chase." I stared at the floor, smirking darkly. She didn't deserve my gaze.

Sharp fingernails grabbed my chin, tilting my head around sharply. I stifled my cry of surprise, as I was physically forced to look at her.

"Was that attitude I just heard?"

"Are you deaf- or just plain stupid?" That's what I _wish_ I would've said. But, I didn't. Instead, I kept my mouth clamped shut, shaking my head, signaling a no.

"That's what I thought," she stared at me smugly, before her high heels clamped away, seemingly shaking the entire room. "Don't forget to finish that list. If you don't- you'll regret it." She said it in a playful, lacy tone, like she couldn't care less. But I got the meaning behind it. The list was just the messenger- sending me a painful reminder. My hand traced the scar on my collarbone, right above my breasts.

The day when I tried to fight back, the day when I refused to do the dishes, refused to be polite, refused to clean the house, iron her dresses, do Mattie and Barbie's homework for her. The day I refused to be her puppet.

It had resulted with her stabbing me with a kitchen knife.

The wound didn't hurt that bad- after all, I was used to cutting myself. It hurt, though, worse than just the razor blade. I was fourteen, and knew then, that there would be no escaping from her grasp. At least, not until I was eighteen.

"Three years," I whispered to myself hoarsely. "Three years until I'm out of this hell hole."

Little did I know that this year would be different. Much different.

* * *

**A/N: Yep, depressing. Just like I promised! :) Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. I know I say this every chapter to every one of my stories, but I really sincerely appreciate it. I basically check my email every hour to see if anyone liked it. So, I hope you did! Next update will be next week Monday because I have to study for the Entrance Exam to get into High School. Life of the party right here. R&R.  
**


End file.
